liquid - the new fad in clothing
so i woke up this morning.
i called luke and rolled around in bed hoping to avoid the day. it never works but it is amazing how often and consistently i try :)
got off the phone with luke, put my contacts in, dressed myself, and went downstairs.
last night i made chili because my father asked me too. he wanted to watch the superbowl and eat chili while doing it. my father doesn't get what he wants very often, so i made it for him. while i was making it, i asked my mother where the garlic was. she handed the clove to me and told me that she had a garlic press that she never used. she located it and handed it to me. i used it and placed it in the sink. this morning i walked into the kitchen to grab a coke to drink on the way to school. my mother was washing dishes at 6:50 in the morning for some fairly odd reason. she asked me to asemble the press for her as she had taken it apart. i attempted to do so but failed. my father enters the kitchen. upon his arrival, my mother informs him that my sister is no longer allowed to do the dishes because she does too much around the house. my father, being obese with unstable blood pressure, sugar, and medication, did not appreciate hearing this. he reacted in a negative manner. he said, okay, fine. my mother told him this to receive a negative reaction. she knew that he would get pissy hearing it. she's a cunt. during this i am currently standing in the kitchen near the table still trying to manifest a garlic press. my mother begins to wipe down the counter top. after about two seconds she says, " do you think that you could possibly clean this off?"
my dad replies, " well, ugh, yeah i guess."
"no, nevermind, i can see that you're too lazy. i will never understand such laziness!"
[she obviously does not understand lazy people. i would like to focus your attention to the bitch my mother is. she begins to clean the counter, but then cannot finish it. there are limited reasons as to why she did so.
1) my mother, herself, is lazy
2) my mother is such a cunt that she had to push my father to his limit, which is rather high.
i know the answer is both. i prefer to evaluate things at the end of the story, but in the case i have made an exception. i want the end of the story to retain its impact]
my father walks over to the counter and grabs the wash cloth. he begins to clean the counter with my mother standing directly next to him, clearly in his way.
i cannot remember if my mother said something, but i think that she did. i do recall my father saying, "get out of the fucking way!"
my back was slightly turned toward them, but out of the corner of my eye i see rapid movement. the next thing i know, i'm wet. it's dripping down my head, covering my coat and hands, dripping down to my shoes and is covering the floor. it's all over the table. where the lid is circling to a halt. it belongs to a two quart pitcher that had been about half full of orange crystal light shit. i turned to my mother, looked her in the eye and yelled at her.
"what the fuck? now i'm going to be late for school"
in that hateful, demonic, squinted-eye rape, "then go"
my coat had been open and the sleeves were drenched in disgusting orange crap. i lifted them to her face. "in what?"
"i don't care"
"apparently you don't. scream at me like i fucking caused it."
i took my backpack and coat off. my ipod wasn't touched. i ran upstairs, grabbed another shirt, and returned to the living room shirtless. i put my other shirt on, slung my backpack on and laid my favorite coat out to dry by the door. i then broke one of my rules. i slammed the door. got in my car, sped off, and shed about one tear. i refuse to let her cause me emotion. it wasn't too cold out this morning so i didn't miss my coat too much. sadly it has begun to pour down rain. still praying it doesn't stain.
i called luke and rolled around in bed hoping to avoid the day. it never works but it is amazing how often and consistently i try :)
got off the phone with luke, put my contacts in, dressed myself, and went downstairs.
last night i made chili because my father asked me too. he wanted to watch the superbowl and eat chili while doing it. my father doesn't get what he wants very often, so i made it for him. while i was making it, i asked my mother where the garlic was. she handed the clove to me and told me that she had a garlic press that she never used. she located it and handed it to me. i used it and placed it in the sink. this morning i walked into the kitchen to grab a coke to drink on the way to school. my mother was washing dishes at 6:50 in the morning for some fairly odd reason. she asked me to asemble the press for her as she had taken it apart. i attempted to do so but failed. my father enters the kitchen. upon his arrival, my mother informs him that my sister is no longer allowed to do the dishes because she does too much around the house. my father, being obese with unstable blood pressure, sugar, and medication, did not appreciate hearing this. he reacted in a negative manner. he said, okay, fine. my mother told him this to receive a negative reaction. she knew that he would get pissy hearing it. she's a cunt. during this i am currently standing in the kitchen near the table still trying to manifest a garlic press. my mother begins to wipe down the counter top. after about two seconds she says, " do you think that you could possibly clean this off?"
my dad replies, " well, ugh, yeah i guess."
"no, nevermind, i can see that you're too lazy. i will never understand such laziness!"
[she obviously does not understand lazy people. i would like to focus your attention to the bitch my mother is. she begins to clean the counter, but then cannot finish it. there are limited reasons as to why she did so.
1) my mother, herself, is lazy
2) my mother is such a cunt that she had to push my father to his limit, which is rather high.
i know the answer is both. i prefer to evaluate things at the end of the story, but in the case i have made an exception. i want the end of the story to retain its impact]
my father walks over to the counter and grabs the wash cloth. he begins to clean the counter with my mother standing directly next to him, clearly in his way.
i cannot remember if my mother said something, but i think that she did. i do recall my father saying, "get out of the fucking way!"
my back was slightly turned toward them, but out of the corner of my eye i see rapid movement. the next thing i know, i'm wet. it's dripping down my head, covering my coat and hands, dripping down to my shoes and is covering the floor. it's all over the table. where the lid is circling to a halt. it belongs to a two quart pitcher that had been about half full of orange crystal light shit. i turned to my mother, looked her in the eye and yelled at her.
"what the fuck? now i'm going to be late for school"
in that hateful, demonic, squinted-eye rape, "then go"
my coat had been open and the sleeves were drenched in disgusting orange crap. i lifted them to her face. "in what?"
"i don't care"
"apparently you don't. scream at me like i fucking caused it."
i took my backpack and coat off. my ipod wasn't touched. i ran upstairs, grabbed another shirt, and returned to the living room shirtless. i put my other shirt on, slung my backpack on and laid my favorite coat out to dry by the door. i then broke one of my rules. i slammed the door. got in my car, sped off, and shed about one tear. i refuse to let her cause me emotion. it wasn't too cold out this morning so i didn't miss my coat too much. sadly it has begun to pour down rain. still praying it doesn't stain.